Rainmaker
by Raven Studios
Summary: Jaesa Willsaam and the Sith Warrior both underwent the same ritual on Tatooine. Each took a different route and arrived at a different conclusion. Each now presents a first-person narrative of her experience. Companion piece to 'Welcome to My Nightmare.' (Images in the cover retrieved from the Star Wars Wiki, Star Wars associated images copyright LucasArts.)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: First and foremost, _Star Wars: The Old_ Republic belongs to LucasArts and Bioware. Secondly, although I mention it on the cover art I'll mention it again here, all copyrights for Star Wars' associated images are held by LucasArts… or someone not me. Images were retrieved from the ever-helpful Star Wars Wiki and no infringement is intended. If it's Star Wars related then they probably have it somewhere.

This piece is meant to be a kind of companion piece to _Welcome to My Nightmare_. It should also be noted that there is a time gap between Jaesa's and Hella's experiences. Since we don't know how old Jaesa actually is, she's portrayed eighteen (closer to seventeen than to nineteen) for the purposes of this work.

~RS~

And I know of the pain that you feel the same as me

And I dream of the rain as it falls upon the leaves

And the cracks in our lives like the cracks upon the ground

They are sealed and are now washed away.

~ _Rainmaker_ , Iron Maiden

-Jaesa-

Tatooine was… bright. It was an understatement, but it was the only way to really describe the place. I noticed the brightness before I noticed the heat, or the smell of burning sand, before I really took in the spaceport, a giant bazaar full of people wearing varying degrees of concealing sun-blocking clothes and tiny Jawas running hither and thither piping in their own strange language.

In that first couple of seconds I thought I'd been utterly blinded. Then the white began to take on shape and definition.

Still, it was way brighter than any place had any right to be.

My nerves trembled. "Is this… is this really necessary, my master?" I asked, moving to stand close to Master Karr's elbow. The jostle of the crowd left me uneasy, wondering if I could be swept away like a twig in a steam. Once again, I noticed that my robes didn't seem to fit right. My lightsaber felt heavy and alien at my hip.

And the idea of being dumped with some strange master just like that… scared me. I was nervous enough around Master Karr; how was I supposed to cope with a total stranger? The worry left me feeling nauseous.

"Trust me, Jaesa. If anyone can help you, it's Master Yonlach," Master Karr answered simply.

Help me. He made it sound like I was sick. Could I lose control of my power? And what would that even look like? Could I go crazy from sensing too much and not being able to shut it out?

I shuddered inwardly and followed Master Karr through the spaceport, squinting as we came out into the sunlight. It was like stepping into a furnace and I would swear I felt the moisture in my body start evaporating right out of my skin the instant the suns' light hit it. The heat haze radiating off of… everything… made the whole place look like something out of a dream, wrapped in heat haze.

And not necessarily a _good_ dream.

"Master Karr!"

We both turned to see a strapping Jedi hurrying forward. His robes showed he'd been traveling no small bit, the hems caked in sand and the rest streaked with sand. His face had tan lines indicating he'd been wearing goggles for most of his trip. He regarded me with frank curiosity (when he deigned to notice me at all) and Master Karr with deep respect. "Master Yonlach sent me," the lad explained. "I am Yul-Li." He bowed at the waist.

I resisted the nervous urge to scan him with my special power. Master Karr seemed to think he was alright, so I said nothing, reminding me that it wasn't really necessary to do it, since Master Karr was there.

"It's good to see you again," Master Karr declared, shaking the knight's hand warmly. "Is Master Yonlach unwell?"

"Master Yonlach is aging, as you well know," Yul-Li answered serenely. "I prevailed upon him to save his strength and he agreed—but only so he might have all his available faculties in order to assist your Padawan." He flicked his eyes to me, eyebrows twisting as though he found me… odd.

I frowned, then wiped it off my face as I turned my eyes to the ground. _Your Padawan_. It was wearying how often people talked about me like I wasn't standing right there.

It didn't stop at the end of this conversation, either. It persisted into the next one, and the one after that.

-Hella-

It smelled like broken dreams and shattered hopes.

Or maybe that was the remnant of Nar Shaddaa stuck in my nostrils and mingling with the reek of burning sand. I could have gone a lifetime without setting foot on this sandbox of a world—not the least because Sith with delicate skin (and this in addition being a natural redhead _and_ a Dromund Kaas native) tend to _sunburn easily_. Hence the ridiculous, shroud-like garment I wore that filtered the sun to something bearable but left me looking like some kind of ridiculous mutant Jawa.

Quinn wore one, too, but his seemed more comfortable and didn't flap like a veil over his face. _He_ could make do with a hood and goggles, for which I envied him.

I tried to console myself that being bad-tempered was not an un-useful thing… but it was hard to make myself believe it. "Lord Baras says we're looking for a woman called Sharack Breev," Quinn noted, almost secretarially.

Shyrack, is it?

Shyrack are nuisances on Korriban. It's not a name. Unless she had a fool for a parent. Or, perhaps, it's spelled differently. "Hm. What do you think of this place, Quinn?"

I could feel it like a thrum against my senses, a strangely warped concentration of the Force as though it had been turned inside out, twisted, then had half itself turned right-side out again. It was a strange mess, like something warped and _melted_ —that was an even better way to describe it.

Quinn twisted his mouth below his dark goggles. He would fare a little better than I, but not much. Dromund Kaas natives are _not_ adapted for the ridiculous habitat that is Tatooine.

At that instant, a skinny woman with darkly tanned skin and sun-bleached hair came into the hangar. As soon as she was about eight feet back, she bowed deeply. I felt it in seconds: like Quinn, like Dellocon, she was Force-deaf, degrees shy of being a true Sensitive. I had to wonder at Darth Baras' subtlety. Most Sith would lump the Force-deaf in with true non-Sensitives; thus, most Sith use the terms interchangeably when, in fact, they are not the same thing.

After all, if an individual can't actually _use_ the Force, what good are they? That's the traditionalist mindset, anyway.

The traditionalist mindset overlooks the fact that because one cannot _use_ the Force does not mean one is not used _by_ the Force. Hunches, unerring senses of direction, an especially sharpened skill, any one of these can be useful both to the one experiencing them and anyone who seeks to make use of the one who experiences them.

Look at Dellocon: how else would he have known so certainly his number had come up if he didn't have some hunch, some faculty screaming at him that it was so? That isn't the sort of thing Baras would let slip and I know Baras is far too astute to let his spies know who the others are, so Rylon's fate couldn't possibly have tipped Dellocon off.

 _That_ is a basic lesson for those who practice subtlety: if one agent is exposed, that one agent cannot betray many of the others.

"The harsh sands of Tatooine welcome you, my lord. I am Sharack Breev." Her bright eyes studied Quinn and me frankly, with curiosity and interest. "Our lord and master, Darth Baras, bid me welcome you and to impart my knowledge of this planet." She spoke with many fluid gestures, almost as though she were starring in one of the older styles of theatrical works where speech is underscored by motion. "He bade to help you track down the Jedi Master Yonlach, and so I shall."

"I'm pleased to have your aid in this endeavor," I answered.

Sharack smiled, teeth white against her dark skin. "I will be your compass. The path to Master Yonlach is… winding. You will find him by following the path the girl took, I'm sure of it. Come, my lord; I shall illuminate your way."


	2. Chapter 2

-Jaesa-

Master Yonlach lived deep, deep in the desert, where nothing else existed. It took us several days to get to Master Yonlach's home, even by speeder.

I'd never spent so much time in a desert environment. It was a big, desolate world of _nothing_ ,just sand and sky. It was so different from Tython and Alderaan that the very desolation of it made my heart ache with longings for water and green growing things, or familiar animals.

All the sounds were strange and the worst were the sounds of the natives—Sand People, they're called—especially at night. You'd hear them late at night and wonder if they were sneaking up on you or just telling you to stay away. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well during the journey.

And it seemed the suns' shared goal to boil off the moisture of every creature beneath their gaze. I never appreciated how much water I consumed until the necessity of doing so went up… and until water became a rationed substance.

It was also a very silent trip with regards to Master Karr and Yul-Li. It became quickly apparent that Yul-Li was no more comfortable chatting to a young female Padawan than Master Karr was. He was alright talking with Master Karr, though, so I did what I seemed to spend a lot of time doing: listening to other people's conversations.

I thought I was going to go crazy before we got to Master Yonlach's home, but I didn't.

Lucky me.

Master Yonlach turned out to be a withered, deeply-tanned old man, his physical strength trending towards absolute frailty. He reminded me of a knotted, gnarled oak near the Organa palace: a dead thing, weathered by wind and time, but still standing and refusing to be dislodged. It bent to time and wind but was defeated by neither. Even the dry deadness of the wood seemed similar to the Jedi master before me: he looked dry with the weathering of a long life and life under the blazing Tatooine suns.

But he was smooth against my perceptions, inviting confidence, like the worn-smooth wood of that faraway tree.

That was my impression of Master Yonlach.

"And this must be Jaesa? Come in, my dear," he beckoned me to come out of the doorway, where I stood practically hiding behind Yul-Li and Master Karr. "Come in, I say," he repeated gently, holding out a hand and indicating I really should come over to him.

I did so, nervously and self-consciously edging between Yul-Li and Master Karr to do so, nervously twisting my hands in my robes. Robes, I should note, that almost always seem to have crinkle marks from being twisted in nervous hands.

Master Yonlach was almost exactly my height, and I'm not incredibly tall. His hand was covered in time-softened calluses, warm and worn, but steady when he took mine. There was a strength that exceeded his physical limitations and a pervading sense of reassurance. More than that, there was a slight spark, almost of familiarity, when our skin touched.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Master," I said automatically, resisting the urge to curtsy politely.

"And I you, child. I can see why your master has brought you to me—you're desperately in need of direction." He didn't make it sound like a criticism. In fact, he made it sound as though he was disappointed to find my teachers left me in such a position.

I agreed. I glanced at Master Karr, memories of spending so much time being tugged along, like a balloon after a child, welling up.

"Do you think you can do anything for her?" Master Karr asked.

He _does_ make me sound like I'm sick.

"I'm not the only one who could, Nomen," Master Yonlach noted sententiously, brushing a hand against my shoulder as if he could feel my upset. "You do this girl a great many disservices."

Master Karr frowned, but it was the frown of one who thinks he knows his business and doesn't like unsolicited advice.

Well, I _could_ do with a bit more actual training. That much is certain.

"I can help Jaesa find… enlightenment. What she does with it is up to her. And how much it helps depends in part upon you," Master Yonlach announced. "Now, I suppose you'll be leaving?" He didn't sound happy and I felt on the verge of panicking. "Don't distress yourself," Master Yonlach announced simply, patting the shoulder his gnarled hand rested on, ripples of soothing lapping gently against my perceptions, cool water on warm sand.

Huh. Sand.

"You'll find this exercise is much better without Nomen looking over your shoulder the whole time," Master Yonlach concluded. "But before that, I think a little study is in order." Again, he pinned Master Karr with a grim look, as though he thought the younger man was being cavalier or irresponsible.

Well…

Master Karr, finally looking a little guilty, nodded. "I'd planned to leave her here with you for just that reason. It isn't good for her to be so dependent on me."

I bit my lip. It's hard _not_ to depend on the one thing that's constant. And since he teaches me very little I don't have much choice _but_ to rely on him.

Master Yonlach gave him a grim look. "Nomen, if I could discuss this with you without an audience."

With that, he went outside, herding Master Karr out ahead of him. They shut the door behind them, leaving me with Yul-Li, who still had nothing to say. Strangely enough… I rather thought Master Yonlach was trying to talk some sense into Master Karr about how my training might benefit from… something more hands-on or dedicated.

It came as something of a relief. Maybe Master Karr will listen.

-Hella-

Izzeebowe Jeef was ancient, as promised, and didn't seem to be quite all there. Leathery-skinned and dressed in loose robes, he looked like clothes on a stick-like seamstress' mannequin. The Force moved strangely about him, suggesting that the planet 'spoke' to him as a result of being weakly sensitive to movements in the Force. Predicting sandstorms, finding things that are lost?

He's not going to be levitating anything anytime soon, though, and not just because of his age. It's good he's been left where he is: Korriban, with its current admittance rules, would chew him up and spit him back out. Then what use would he be to anyone?

As it is, sometimes this apparent clairvoyance (though any Sith would know it isn't _actual_ clairvoyance) has its uses even if that's the only skill the man possesses.

"The world is weeping and the tears evaporate in the heat of our sins," he announced to Sharack, who sat nearby, her knees drawn up to her chest. His voice was soft and low, like sand dunes moving under an empty sky.

We'd come separately from Sharack to avoid the Exchange noticing that she played tour guide to a Sith and her Imperial aide. Apparently the Exchange hasn't worked the twists out of their underthings about being evicted from Mos Ila and might get stupid ideas.

Stupid ideas that might cost Darth Baras a valuable asset.

Honestly, though, what did they expect? No law-abiding order could permit them to remain if they refused to tone down their operations. If they'd applied a little restraint and subtlety, they wouldn't have been run out: their ilk can be useful to the right people.

"I think you mean in the heat of our _suns_ , Izzeebowe," Sharack noted gently, not having heard Quinn and I enter.

The hut was small, round and dim compared to the outdoor light. Even as I pulled my veil-like hood back and goggles off, my eyes watered in the seemingly too-dark space while all colors assumed strange tones of green.

It wasn't much cooler inside than out, which meant no relief to my skin.

Quinn, lucky fellow, proved more resilient to the sunlight than a Dromund Kaas native had any right to be. He'd simply started turning golden-tan with pale marks where his goggles covered his flesh.

I was lucky not to be burning.

…he did look good with a tan, though, I had to admit. Then again, I find that Quinn's looks quite appeal to me to begin with, so my judgment there is a little less than objective.

"No, child," Izzeebowe declared, looking at me with a bright eye and a clear gaze. "There is a dark presence newly arrived on Tatooine."

Sharack turned, then jumped to her feet. "Ah! Sith, I see you've arrived safely." Her eyes swept over Quinn and me, looking for signs of injury. She found none, and nodded to herself in approval.

My mouth twisted at the irony of my response. "I didn't even break a sweat."

He kept it silent, but I felt Quinn's amusement at this. _No one_ on Tatooine fails to break a sweat.

"You are the Seeker Sharack spoke of," Izzeebowe noted, getting up from his low stool in order to pacing around Quinn and I. "Yes. You wish to understand the Jedi girl. What she found here. What she took with her."

"Took with her?" I asked, arching my eyebrows. "Some kind of relic or artifact?"

Izzeebowe chuckled at this as he resumed his seat. "No, no, nothing like that. But experience can be as valuable as any relic, and enlightenment as any artifact. Sometimes more, depending."

"I understand. In that case, you see it correctly," I answered.

Relic-hunting on this forsaken rock? Perish the thought.

Worse, 'attaining enlightenment' is usually an intensive process if a Sith or Jedi is involved. I'll be burned pink before this is done, I just know it. Then again, a sunburned Sith is an unusually dangerous Sith. Pain makes one cranky at best and the inconvenience of being kept out in the sun…

I'd comment on my own sunny disposition, except there's more than enough sun on this overheated world. I could almost hear Quinn gently chiding me about wearing so much _black_ in a desert.

Hm. Maybe I can convince him to put lotions on my burns? He's sure to have something for them somewhere. It wouldn't exactly be compensation for the discomfort, but it would certainly be some small side benefit to it.

"My eyes may be aged and failing, but my mind sees," Izzeebowe intoned.

I wonder if he knows how accurate that statement is.

"Please, Izzeebowe," Sharack said, kneeling on the cushion by his little stool. "Tell my friend, here, what you know. I'll remain afterward to hear your wisdom."

Izzeebowe's mouth contracted, turning his mouth and chin into a rocky cliff, crenellated and weathered. "Fine," he sighed, waving to Quinn and I. "Gather close."

I would have preferred to stand and leave as quickly as possible, but there was no need for discourtesy. I knelt on one of the cushions arrayed on the floor, and Quinn tugged one back so he sat just behind my shoulder, ever the silent observer. I didn't miss that he'd settled so he had a good line of sight to the door, in case we received unexpected guests.

"Few are aware that Tatooine was once a place of positive Force energy. Jedi and the like made pilgrimages here renew and purify themselves." Izzeebowe paused, his gaze growing unfocused, the Force coiling around him instead of simply drifting. "The Sands speak of a ritual—the Demon's Blood," he continued, almost chanting, his voice rocking softly, wind moving over sand dunes. "This is what the child Sharack spoke of was engaged in."

"Explain this ritual," I dropped my voice, low and prompting, a quiet thing that would touch him through his trance without breaking it. If he's untrained, it won't be hard to shake him free of it and that will just slow us down.

"The Demon's Blood. The Force-user seeking enlightenment would seek out an ancient Sand Demon—or its progeny—and anoint himself with the creature's blood. From there, the seeker would continue to the village of the Savage Ones a day hence against the morning suns from the cavern. Cowering before the Demon-Slayer, the Savage Ones would reveal the path to self-discovery and that which the slayer seeks." Izzeebowe fell silent, his eyes oddly misty, distant.

"Do you mean the Sand People?"

"Tatooine makes most who come here savage," Izzeebowe answered off-handedly. "And the Sand People have been here all along. Follow the Padawan's path, Seeker. Learn what she learned. Answers await you, if you care to look for them."

By which I was sure he meant 'undergo this ritual yourself.' He'd already indicated it wasn't Jedi-exclusive. Most rituals, it's worth noting, aren't usually 'Jedi' or 'Sith' exclusive. It's just that one of the Orders (particularly the Jedi Order) may take discount the usefulness of the outcome or take issue with the process or what have you.

"I appreciate your help and insights," I answered, careful not to break his trance.

"Yes." Izzeebowe heaved a great sigh, as if gently roused from a doze, the Force ceasing to coil around him, dissipating back into the air. "Yes, I know no more than what I've told you. Go, then. Find the Sand Demon. Find the Sand People. Find yourself."

I had to admit, I was intrigued by this ritual. Even the most self-aware of persons can gain a great deal from such things—even if not, perhaps, what they expect. This will be an interesting experience. "Thank you, Izzeebowe."

"Walk lightly on my desert," Izzeebowe intoned as I got to my feet, Quinn rising behind me. "It has been through so much in its time."

Sharack stopped us at the door. "Take some time to gather supplies," she said. "I will come for you in Mos Ila. One does not venture unprepared into the deserts, far from help and water."

"Very well. I take it we start early tomorrow?"

"Rather, we start at sundown. Chill is easier to deal with than heat and I see my lord, like many, finds our suns difficult to endure."

I didn't deny it. "Very well. Meet me at my ship. I defer to your judgment."

Sharack bowed her head and moved out of the way so Quinn and I could exit back into those damnable suns.

"Ugh, it's like stepping into an oven," I observed, wondering if my lips had been dry already or if the outside air had just whipped the moisture right out of them.

"At least it's a dry heat," he answered, but he didn't sound comforted by the fact. "We should be wary traveling at night, my lord. Desert temperatures plummet when the sun—suns—go down. There's nothing to hold the heat in, and the sands simply lose it. That is in addition to any creatures that share the idea of keeping out of the sun and become active at night."

I chuckled softly at this. "Also, I imagine news we will be traveling by night is a relief to you, then."

"My lord?" But his mouth twisted as though he knew I was about to tease him. Quinn isn't sensitive or particularly shy; he's simply cautious and a little too duty-oriented to think about what _he_ wants unless he's prodded rather sharply. Too much looking at the big picture, if you ask me.

I just have to be careful not to spook him—one hears so much about Sith and their sadistic bents and psychotic tastes. I don't blame him for not retaining some caution when a Sith, even myself, expresses an interest. Or, perhaps, he's less concerned about what I might do to him and what I make him feel. Or maybe it's because of Baras' long shadow.

I'd like to think it's just that Quinn keeps his emotions neatly in check and has carefully walled in what should have been a deeply passionate nature—to the point that it unnerves him when it is stirred. I can feel it if I try, or when he's emotionally provoked. Fortunately for me, little cracks are forming in that shell he perfected in order to cope with his disgrace and exile.

And it's been so long since I took an interest in anyone, let alone someone willing to make me work for it. I'm more than happy to let this dance play out to its conclusion—because in all the times he's put me at arm's length he's never once said I should actually _stay_ there.

"Think of it, Quinn. You and I, together, on a chilly desert night? You wouldn't want me to freeze, now would you?" I asked, smirking wickedly at him.

Quinn snorted softly, his aura pulsing gently. "I'm afraid sacrifices must be made for the sake of efficiency, my lord."

"Unfortunate, isn't it?"


	3. Chapter 3

-Jaesa-

I swallowed hard as I looked at the cavern yawning in front of us. It had taken several days to get to it and now that we were there I felt so nervous I practically shook with it.

I'd been on Tatooine for several weeks, training with Master Yonlach. His formal excuse was that I needed the training in order to go through the ritual he thought might help me. In reality—so his glittering eyes said—I just needed _training_ and he wasn't going to shirk his responsibility to me since I'd been left in his care. If he did so, how could he expect me not to shirk my responsibilities?

It was very easy to grow fond of him, of his calm demeanor and his easy manner. It helped, too, that I wasn't one of twenty-odd students all under the age of eight. There was no pressure, no distraction from being the oldest in the group at more than twice the age of the others, no sidelong looks of curiosity about why I wasn't like everyone else. Master Yonlach didn't treat my age as an impediment or see it as a shortcoming.

' _Age comes to us all, Jaesa. And a Jedi knows that, in the end, it matters little. The Force is our ally, and a powerful one. Do you judge my strength by my withered appearance? It is well if you do not._ '

He was the best teacher a girl usually ruled 'too old for the training' could hope for! Patient and kind, he always had time for me. He'd even instructed Yul-Li to work with my rather pathetic combat skills, since Yul-Li was supposed to be good at that sort of thing.

I still had trouble with the philosophy and sitting still to meditate, but Master Yonlach knew when to change a subject before I got too frustrated. He allowed that the heat could make any small frustration so much larger, and that it wouldn't do any good to make it worse by lecturing about it. As long as I knew that controlling frustration on Tatooine was an accomplishment, and accepted that learning to do so here would make it easier to do in places… less extreme.

It gave me hope.

He had a way of showing me how many little accomplishments I managed every day. Little baby steps that would lead me along the path to being a proper Jedi.

Now, though, training was over… for a time. Now, I was to be tested. It was comforting for him to have such faith in me, but it was intimidating, too. What if I failed? Or, worse, what if I messed up and had to be _rescued_? I didn't think I could live with the shame of it.

"Here we are," Master Yonlach announced, his voice muffled by the mouth baffle he wore to keep the ever-present sand at bay. "Now, Jaesa. Leave your weapons here with me." When I balked, he chuckled softly. "You won't need them."

I didn't trust that, but I obeyed him nonetheless. He's never led me astray or given me a reason not to trust him. He took my lightsaber and considered me thoughtfully.

"Now, alone—"

How did I know that was coming? 'Alone.'

"—you will enter into the cave and tame the Sand Demon to your hand. Remember the Jedi Code…" He indicated I should fill it in.

"There is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge; there is no passion, there is serenity; there is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, only the Force," I answered.

That was one place where I felt Master Yonlach wasn't much more help than any other Jedi I'd ever talked with. The Code seemed to state a set of goals, but no one—Master Yonlach included—could tell me _how_ to _reach_ those goals.

And most of the people I spoke to on the subject were annoyingly obnoxious about it.

Master Yonlach was less so. He might believe blindly in the Code and not worry about the details, but rather than try to rub my nose in it until I just opened my mind and accepted it, he encouraged me to think on it, meditate on it, then discuss it with him.

It was better than the alternatives and for him I tried.

"Good. It will see you through this. You know what you need to do. Steady yourself. All this will happen in your own good time. It cannot be hurried."

I nodded, taking a few moments to gather reassurance from his steady, stalwart presence. Then I set off, putting my best foot forward as I passed the cavern entrance.

It was one of those places where you just _knew_ something was in there. I could have sworn I heard the thing breathing, that the sound trembled in the walls. Or maybe it was just the way the cave magnified sounds. Or maybe it was my fear doing that.

I tried to beat the gnawing sense of dread back, kept reaching back through the Force for Master Yonlach's sturdy presence. It was like swimming out to sea but stopping every so often to make sure my foot could still touch the seafloor.

' _Peace, Padawan.'_

The thought—more idea and less actual words—rippled across my mind, soothing and reassuring.

I stopped, took a deep breath and centered myself again.

The place smelled weird after fifty feet or so and got weirder after that. It was a musty, leathery smell like… like the way brown paper smelled when burned. They used to use it in the House Organa kitchens to protect a baked good from burning on the top—so the paper burned and the cake or whatever didn't. Except where the kitchens had burnt brown paper mingling with cake, the cave didn't.

I peered around corners until, finally, I found it. It was massive, buglike on six spindly legs, its hard skin looking like it had been caked in sand so often and for so long that the sand had solidified into a rocky carapace. Its big eyes bulged on stalks like those of a sea-creature as it chewed on something… bloody… low sounds of what were probably pleasure rumbled the air.

…there is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge; there is no passion, there is serenity; there is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, only the Force…

…there is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge; there is no passion, there is serenity; there is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, only the Force…

Come on, Jaesa. You can do this. If you turn tail and run, he'll just make you try again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And then you'll be embarrassed…

I stepped around the corner, bracing my feet.

The thing heard me, however little noise I made.

It turned sharply, mouth bloody from whatever it had been eating, and it _screamed_ at me.

Jaesa Willsaam, Jedi Padawan, went into the lair of the Sand Demon and never came out—

I gritted my teeth. No. Because that would disappoint Master Yonlach. He hasn't spent all this time training me and helping me for me to throw it back in his face by being killed and eaten. "Back off!" I barked, planting my feet before the creature come charging at me—which it looked inclined to do.

My voice rang hard and authoritative off the walls of the cavern, not sounding at all like myself.

The Sand Demon stopped. It cocked his head, then took several steps forward warbling at me. It was a feinted charge, but it took everything I had not to back up, to give ground. Instinct told me that would end badly.

I had to brace myself harder to stop my own shakes, shakes which threatened to rock my whole body. "You're not so tough. I don't care how big you are."

The beast shied back, skittering a bit as if nervous or uncertain.

I had to wonder, then, if maybe it wasn't just as scared as I was, being confronted by a strange entity in the middle of dinner. I mean, if someone walked in on me unexpectedly while I was trying to enjoy a quiet meal I'd be a little standoffish and scared, too.

"I'm not afraid of you," I said sternly, gazing into its black eyes.

The beast warbled softly, then settled on its belly, legs folded comfortably, giving the impression of a dog hoping for some attention.

Carefully, cautiously, I made my way up to it and touched its head, scratching gently between its eyestalks.

It grumbled loudly, a contented sound then let out a whoosh of nasty-smelling breath.

Oh… there's a smell…

It closed its eyes and, to all appearances, went to sleep. A second later, as I was still processing all this—and wondering how to get to its blood—it began to glimmer, then to glisten.

I touched its skin, found the sandy shell—which was not thick at all—flaking off in chunks, dissolved from beneath by whatever substance the Sand Demon had secreted. It was almost like it was letting its guard down around me. I studied the goo, clear and smelling utterly foul—as if to discourage something from trying to eat it.

Not without concern that I hadn't actually completed the ritual properly, I moved to the beast's side, peeling away its shell and coating my hands in the goo. Holding my breath, eyes smarting from the stinging reek, I began to smear the stuff across my shoulders and robes. Then, and really hating how the day was shaping up, I smoothed it into my hair and across my face. It was cold and seemed to stiffen into a kind of gummy masque within seconds.

Unlike the masques used by ladies at court, its smell didn't improve upon drying.

Ugh.

I emerged from the Sand Demon's cavern feeling uplifted and excited, in spite of the smell of the Sand Demon's… goo. In fact, the uplifted and excited were doubtless augmented by my determination to avoid thinking about the feel and smell of the… gunk… on my skin.

But I'd done it! I'd really done it, and all by myself!

Master Yonlach sat on the sands, just inside the shade, meditating. I had the feeling he'd been 'watching' me the whole time, reassuring eyes over my shoulder. He looked up when I approached, his weathered face breaking into a genuine smile.

"I did it!" I announced, resisting the urge to pick at the rubbery-gross clinging to my clothes and skin.

"You see?" he asked as he waved me to sit down beside him. "Already you find enlightenment."

"I _can_ do things on my own," I answered promptly, ignoring the motion in favor of pacing about. Now that the danger was over, excitement and relief pounded in my blood, buoying me up like I never thought possible.

"Now, this is the time to meditate, to roll over the experience."

That nearly sapped my enthusiasm. I was covered in gunk, after all, and really wanted to get it off me.

-Hella-

We—Sharack, Quinn, and I—timed our arrival to give us plenty of time to get from the Sand Demon's abode to the Sand People's village. It wasn't a great distance but Quinn, dear overcautious man that he is, insisted we be able to do battle and make the pilgrimage in the same night if possible.

Less time covered in Sand Demon body fluids that way. I'll admit, no one was particularly enthusiastic about that prospect.

I approached it with Sith pragmatism: I had to move forward because I could neither move back nor stay put.

Quinn approached it with his usual attitude towards everything: one thing at a time, however unpleasant, and eventually that 'one unpleasant thing' is over and just a bad memory.

I considered Sharack and Quinn. "Sharack, stay here and wait. Quinn, you may come if you choose." It had occurred to me that, as Quinn and Sharack are both Force-deaf it might be of some benefit to them if they undertook the ritual. However, Sharack is Baras' creature to the very bone. Quinn… less so. And he comes with me when this whole mess is over. As many rituals involving the Force can touch non-Sensitives, being only Force-deaf he might benefit greatly from this experience.

So why not give him the option?

I'm grateful the world isn't fair. Imagine if he were Sith and I were not. I'm sure he'd be utterly devastating—in good ways and bad ways. Unfortunately, in such a twist in Fate I'd never have tripped over him and couldn't even be sorry about it! One more reason to appreciate him because I can.

Wordlessly, Sharack nodded as Quinn followed me into the gloom.

The girl left her weapons and entered alone. Well, she was being trained by a Jedi.

I know that I won't _need_ mine. However, I don't want anyone following in my footsteps. Therefore, the beast must die in the conventional way _after_ being defeated as this ritual requires.

"Do you feel that?" Quinn asked, voice low and husky, looking around cautiously.

"I feel it." It was a low sound, almost more of a sensation than a sound, a rumble that shivered through the walls and anyone walking about within them. The steady rise and fall made me think the creature was asleep. Reaching back, I caught his wrist. "Stay close to me. I've brought you, which makes you a part of this."

Quinn's pace checked for a moment, balking so slightly before resuming the neat, measured pace military life instilled in him. "Is that possible, my lord?"

Chuckling softly, I nodded. "The Force touches all things, Quinn, affects all things. I cannot say what the effect on you will be, but I strongly suggest you take the opportunity to see if anything comes of this."

His unease colored the air, but he didn't protest, merely shook my hand off his wrist—he'd need it if he was to shoot at all, and his need to rely on a weapon for comfort was greater than mine. It was one thing to face an unknown enemy in a questionable fashion.

It was quite another to be sucked into some kind of 'Sith sorcery.'

The Sand Demon lay asleep in a massive central chamber, its whole body rising and falling steadily.

"My lord," Quinn caught my elbow, just above the protective guard I wore there. "I have a thought about our present undertaking."

I let him pull me back, away from the Sand Demon's chamber until we'd reached his idea of a 'safe distance' for conversation. That's Quinn: he never underestimates anything or anyone, always cautious but not to the point of paralysis or indecision.

"Ah, Quinn, always looking out for me. Is it love? Desire?"

He wasn't sure about the first one but I certainly had the impression it was the latter.

It's too much to bear, the idea that Darth Baras means to use this gifted man and, what's more, use him against me when Baras decides the time to remove the threat I represent has come.

Don't worry, Quinn—I'll find a way to disentangle whatever cords Baras is using. And I promise I won't seek to replace them with cords and bindings of my own.

"Love of duty, perhaps," Quinn answered, swallowing hard before speaking and lowering his gaze, as if doing so would give me fewer things to 'read.' "Desire for victory. I can say no more."

He didn't need to, although he managed to bottle it all up and put it away where it was hard to find without me actually prying—and the kind of prying it would require was beneath me. "You're getting better at not flinching, Quinn. I'm glad to see it."

Hopefully it's because, while I might flirt and tease, I mostly keep my hands to myself. The truth is, seducing him would be quite easy… but that, like the prying, is beneath me. This is a chase, a game… and I want him to come to me to mark that the game is over.

Quinn's eyes flicked back up, his mouth twisting into a line that could have been stifled amusement or wry disbelief that I could be so distracted given where we were and what we were supposed to be doing. Then, he gave a short exhale as if reminding himself I couldn't be anyone or anything but what I am. "Perhaps a sign that the tables might turn, my lord," he answered in his stuffiest tone… but the gleam in his eyes made me grin.

"Wouldn't that be an interesting experience? Do let me know should it occur."

"Undoubtedly you shall be the first to know."

"Would that all battles had such a marvelous pep talk. Such a sweet way of saying 'don't get mauled.'"

"Not by such a creature as _that_ , I would hope."

Oh. I should like to explore that answer, however… "There's that wicked humor I love so well," I purred. "Very well, Quinn. I concede the match to you. And the victor requires…?"

Quinn's mouth did twist into a smile, very restrained, of course, but with a hint that he was well aware I was being mostly serious… and amusement in stringing along the dance with feigned ignorance. "A return to practicality, my lord."

I pouted at him, but said nothing to reignite the badinage.

He took my silence as proof of my willingness to follow along. "I'm not sure what the girl could have done to avoid a physical confrontation with the beast. Some sort of Jedi mind manipulation, I should think." His tone was so sour at the prospect that I chuckled.

"I appreciate the irony that such compulsions are considered a _Jedi_ trick," I noted, shaking my head.

"It certainly says something about them," he agreed.

It does: Sith don't _need_ such tricks, though I won't say they aren't used. But the fact remains that the Jedi use them because they cannot secure through mundane means what they can easily leverage through the Force. I wonder if they understood the inherent violation such a thing represents, would they would be known for using it so freely? To make a man act otherwise than he would is invasive.

There has to be a way for Quinn to protect himself from such manipulations. Baras, for certain, is not above such petty tricks if he were to think that the good Captain was wavering in his loyalties. Even if he didn't have to, I could see Baras acting for his own assurance.

' _Did you expect me to be murdered for reassurance? Just wait for death!?'_

Dellocon failed to take decent precautions; it's why he died the way he did.

I won't let it happen to Quinn.

Or to me.

"Still, if a girl nascent in the Force can prevail, surely you—"

"We."

"— _we_ can. And then we can slaughter the monster with ease."

"You read my mind, Quinn."

"My lord has a wonderful sense for operational security. Say, rather, that you predict and anticipate mine," Quinn answered graciously.

I chuckled at this. I swear, even if we travel at night and hide from the suns by day, Tatooine seems determined to somehow boil our brains in our skulls. In Quinn's case, it exposes his playful side. Or maybe he's simply tired of Sharack's chatter—and she does chatter quite a bit. As Baras said: she's something of an acquired taste and Quinn has not yet acquired it.

Quinn and I returned to the Sand Demon's den to find it coming out of its stupor. It saw us and immediately hissed, jumping—or its equivalent thereto—to its spindly feet.

It was a large creature, sand-colored and crusty-looking, as though made of living sandstone. Its black eyes on their stalks and its spiky, horny appearance made me think of sea creatures improbably brought to live on a land that had not known seas since time nearly immemorial.

I touched the Force, felt a strange sensation, like voices ringing off the stone, the accumulated sound of challenges spread along the line of time.

Not a mind manipulation, as Quinn thought. It was far simpler, far more elegant. I took two aggressive steps forward as the thing screamed threateningly at me, making a chopping motion with my hand. "Enough! Kneel, creature—I have no fear and I will not run."

The Sand Demon tensed, going still as it studied me. I returned the black gaze fixed upon me, unblinking until the creature hunkered back.

With that, I strode up to it, aware of Quinn's distress as he followed tensely at my shoulder. "Good boy," I declared, touching the Sand Demon behind one eyestalk and scratching the sandy carapace; it looked and felt like an accumulation of grit rather than an actual hide.

The Sand Demon warbled, almost cooing before dropping lazily to its belly. It continued this for some time, then sank comfortably back into the stupor of sleep, unafraid.

I glanced at Quinn, reaching for my lightsaber as I did so, waiting until he'd drawn his pistol.

It was done quickly, without struggle or complication.

"Ugh!" As soon as the reek of the beast's blood hit the air—a black, sticky mess unlike the 'living gel' Sharack described—I couldn't keep the sound of disgust from jumping from my mouth.

"Ugh," Quinn echoed. "I've never seen a beast bleed so much," he added, tone muffled as he covered his nose. "It makes my eyes water."

"If anyone had told me I'd one day be bathing in actual blood—working Sith or not—I'd have told them they were mad. This is _far_ worse than that cream that was so popular a few years back. The reek of it," I muttered.

"Cream, my lord?"

I laughed and regretted it. The odor was a _taste_ as well as a smell. "Yes… it was made of the droppings of some small creature, I forget which one. Supposedly it was good for the skin. The thing was that no one knew what it was really made of for a full season. The riot it caused when the truth came out!"

Quinn snorted. "That makes absolutely no sense. You utilize no such… gunk… and your skin is _flawless_." He suddenly choked, as if the smell had distracted him enough to not stop voicing the thought when he should have.

I chuckled at this, watched him brace for the rejoinder… and took great delight in simply anointing myself with the Sand Demon blood, letting the unintended remark hang in the air like dust motes.

Not many, men or otherwise, would call a Sith's skin flawless. Especially one with such scars as I have. If it came from anyone else, I'd accuse that person of empty flattery and be annoyed. However, with regards to Quinn's interest in me, the scars don't detract from my appeal any more than the eyes or my strange pallor do.

As Mother said: _people will forgive you just about anything if you're charming and powerful._

The blood was viscous, probably something that would coagulate quickly if the beast was injured. I rubbed it on my forearms, then on my throat, shoulders, and that part of my chest not covered by my vest. Then, and hating it every second, I anointed my face.

"Now, you do the same. Leave your brow unmarked," I commanded, studying the goo on my fingers. Its quick coagulation meant it turned plastic-like, in the manner of drying-out paints, within minutes of exposure to air—even the cooler nighttime air.

"This is undoubtedly the most disgusting thing I have ever done," Quinn noted. Wincingly, he unbuttoned his tunic and anointed his arms and face, leaving black handprints on his shoulders and just beneath his throat. The undershirt could be replaced easily, after all.

And, I couldn't help but notice—as is all too common where Quinn is concerned—that the white undershirt is my favorite thing he's ever worn. Soft-looking cotton, it hugged his torso in _just_ the right way. I moved over to him once he had smears on his cheeks—which, to my disappointment, covered up that little mark on his left cheekbone.

"For safety's sake, I'm going to mark you as mine—not permanently, just for the benefit of the Sand People. I shouldn't like to see you injured."

He'd jerk back without a warning, since I very rarely invade his personal space, let alone… handle him… at all.

I rose onto tiptoe, one hand on his shoulder to keep him from backing away and kissed his brow, leaving a perfect imprint of my lipstick—a full upper lip, and a single swipe along the lower. His aura pulsed and shuddered at the brief contact, which was too brief and businesslike to be anything but what I'd said. No lingering, nothing teasing or provocative.

And I don't doubt he recognized this.

"There," I declared, restoring an appropriate distance between us. "I wouldn't want those creatures mistaking us for differing parties."

"You have my thanks, my lord," Quinn answered dryly.

Hn. 'Dryly.' On a desert world. I'm not under the suns most of the day and my brain is already boiling away.

And rhyming. If it weren't for bringing out Quinn's cheekiness, this world would be intolerable.


	4. Chapter 4

-Jaesa-

It was just weird to see the Sand People—the scariest, meanest things on Tatooine—drawing back as I entered their compound. I was alone again, Master Yonlach confident in the protection evidence of the ritual would afford. This was worse than the Sand Demon in some ways, since Sand People looked like… well… people.

The Sand Demon could kill me and eat me. I'd heard… unpleasant stories… about what Sand People do to their captives.

Master Yonlach radiated comfort and calming reassurance through the bond we'd formed. He said it was particularly strong, profound even. I had the feeling it was the kind of bond a Master and a Padawan should share… and that I didn't have it with Master Karr because he wasn't doing his job as well as he should.

Master Yonlach, although he never _said_ anything to that effect, nevertheless gave me that impression.

I agreed. I'd learned more in the few weeks I'd been with Master Yonlach than I had in the _months_ I'd been with the Jedi and Master Karr.

Since he didn't say not to, I carried my lightsaber in hand, rather than clipped to my belt or left with him.

The Sand People didn't attack. In fact, they drew away from me as if with cautious respect. Finally, there was only one and, since he had more adornments on his wrapped robes, I guessed him to be either a chieftain or some kind of holy man. He beckoned me to follow him, which I did.

The compound was built next to a large stone or collection of large stones. He led me to a tent butted right up against it, then lifted the flap.

Trepidation filled me as he gestured that I should enter.

Gritting my teeth, my senses buzzing with unease, I did so.

The flap fell closed behind me, leaving me alone in near darkness.

'Near darkness' because a dim light came from ahead—a cavern in the rock beside which the village was built.

When in doubt, follow the light.

The cavern was not large, but sunlight filtered into the space. The shade was welcome after the desert suns. Luckily for me, I've never been prone to burning. In summer I just tanned right up—Lady Gesselle used to lament my good fortune with that. She burned like nothing I'd ever seen. Then again, she was so pale; I remember her laughing ruefully over her 'prison pallor.'

I shook myself, turning around in place to see why the cavern was important.

Upon the wall to the left of the entrance, the flattest space, was a painting. It was crude, but quite clear, and I could pick out the Sand Demon's cave, and the pass we had to go through to get to it. Large and easy to read, I studied it for a long few moments, taking in the landmarks leading to a white smudge—unlike the other landmarks, the smudge was just a smudge, but it was also set with a crystal of some kind that seemed to shatter and throw back any light that touched it. I couldn't imagine how, but there were little rainbows cast by it all over the place.

I checked and double checked where I was going, then noticed a small basket nearby with native-made… was it cloth or paper?... and charcoal sticks, clearly provided for the purpose of carrying away a copy of the map. I'm no cartographer, but it wasn't hard.

I worried, since I had no way of knowing whether the distances were to scale. It wasn't a map like I was used to…

…but if Master Yonlach knew so much about this, he probably had performed the ritual himself.

I quickly copied the map, and exited the tent to find the chieftain (or holy man) waiting to see me go. Again, I was met by cautious curiosity and, again, I passed without trouble from the natives.

-Hella-

Thanks to Quinn's and Sharack's overabundance of care in planning this leg of our excursion, we arrived within sight of the Sand People's compound around midnight. The question of how to approach was of some concern, but in the end Quinn and I ended up simply carrying glow-lamps, which threw light on the Sand Demon blood we wore and, no doubt, made us look utterly ghoulish.

I know I _felt_ utterly ghoulish, but kept from brooding too much with the comforting thought that, at least, it wasn't midday under those wretchedly hot suns.

Sharack stayed behind, partly because she was only an observer and not a participant and partly to attend to Quinn's and my wrappings—without them, it would have been a cold trek at best—as well as the party's supplies. With them, it was merely chilly, since neither of us wanted to get Sand Demon goo all over our robes…

…with the interesting result that we'd begun to gain a carapace of our own, not unlike that which the Sand Demon sported.

The compound's sentries began one of their hellish rackets, wailing and howling to one another as Quinn and I approached.

By the time we reached the edge of the camp, however, the sentries were gone, leaving only one Sand Person standing conspicuously in our way. He was tense, unnerved—I could sense it—and desperately didn't want our ilk near himself or his people.

He nodded curtly, then motioned Quinn and I to follow, which we did. His movements were rigid and measured, as though determined to show no fear but all the while suffering from it.

I could feel eyes upon us, peering out of the little habitations we passed, which added to my sense of being ghoulish as well as feeling that way.

The Sand Person led us to a tent nestled against a large sandstone formation. It was dark in color—the tent, not the stone—and made of a rough-woven cloth, something meant to stand up to time and weather rather than to display any aesthetic value. He motioned us to go inside, then drew back, as if not wanting to be too close to us, lest one or the other suddenly go crazy and start a massacre.

I entered the tent, finding what I expected from a tent butted up against a rock: a tunnel or entryway. It was dark beyond, our lamps turning the world into sickly yellow and deepest shadow.

The doorway led to a short hall and then into a large cavern. Our lights didn't reach the ceiling, and from the middle of the room only touched the walls enough to discern where the rock coloration varied.

On the wall, on the left side of the door, where the stone was flat and had been rubbed smooth by careful hands, was a map of the desert—it couldn't be anything else. In the middle of one of the formations was set a crystal, which glowed softly, a beacon drawing the eye.

It was warm under my fingers, as though it had been catching sunlight all day and hadn't finished radiating it back into the colder night.

When I turned to consult Quinn, I found him rising from beside a basket, a piece of paper in one hand and a dark shard in the other hand. Briskly, he sketched onto the paper. "I take it the crystal is our destination?" he asked, pausing in his work.

"Yes. I believe so." The Force hung here like cobwebs, each supplicant leaving a strand of him or herself behind. I could have stayed and meditated here, soaking up the layers of time and breathing in the traces left by history. Some places accumulate echoes in the Force and this was one of them, reminding me strongly of the Dark Temple only less malevolent. Though, it should be pointed out, that the Force as it gathered was neither Light nor Dark. It was… yes. It simply _was_.

I waited, watching Quinn without really seeing him, until he turned to me, pausing as if unsure whether he would be interrupting.

I took this to mean he was finished. "Let us go. We're almost at our journey's end." I felt it in my very bones.

"Thank goodness," Quinn murmured, voicing the opinion about half of me entertained.

It was not until we were well outside the village, but not yet having joined Sharack, that Quinn spoke again. "My lord, I hate to disrupt Sith business…"

"It isn't just Sith business, this time," I answered, regarding him. "But your business, as well. By all means, ask your questions."

Quinn teetered for a moment, then huffed a sigh, shaking his head wearily. "I take it we may now remove this… foulness?" He tried so hard to sound like he wasn't complaining. Normally he wouldn't, but the Sand Demon blood was possibly one of the foulest things I'd ever come in contact with.

"Patience, Quinn. It hasn't been made clear that we should, so I recommend enduring it. Although, Force knows I wouldn't mind a wash. But, if what I suspect is true, you'll have the opportunity to enjoy something few on Tatooine ever experience."

He made a noncommittal noise, more to have an answer so it didn't seem like sullen silence.


	5. Chapter 5

-Jaesa-

"Now," Master Yonlach declared, "You must go in and face what awaits. I shall remain here. Any interference on my part would decrease the value of this exercise. Moreover, this is a personal journey and needn't be shared unless you will it. No." He held up a hand when I would have protested that he was welcome to come. "This must be done alone. Go on. Take what time you need, there's no hurry."

There never was any hurry with Master Yonlach.

With that prompt, and a gentle push in the right direction, he settled in the entryway, facing the desert. I was reminded of a stone being rolled over the opening.

"Oh," I breathed as I entered the massive cavern to which the Sand People's map led. It was an enormous thing, situated above an oasis. Plants—reeds of the hardiest sort—grew determinedly along the edge of the water. From some corner came a drip-drip, a soft sound like a kiss as water fell to meet water and was gladly received.

Crystals grew out of the far wall and, unless I was much mistaken, crystals of the sort that marked this structure in the Sand People's cave. They certainly managed to send splinters of light every which way, dancing on the water, walls and ceiling even though they weren't struck directly by any light source.

My skin itched and the smell of the Sand Demon's goo seemed caught in my nostrils.

I approached the waters, marveling that they didn't just evaporate. The air seemed so full of moisture that I could have been anywhere but Tatooine. I gazed at the water, then took a deep breath.

Covered in gunk at the end of such a journey and being in such a place made the next task obvious. I shed my armor, stripped down to my underthings, and waded in. The water deepened quickly until, finally, I was waist deep. Taking a deep breath, I immersed myself, making sure my hair got properly soaked so I could get all the muck out of it. Upon surfacing, I yelped in shock.

Standing before me, waist-deep in the water but fully dressed was… me.

I staggered back. No, not me, only _like_ me…

"You know very well who I am," she said, as if answering a spoken statement. "I'm you. Or I would be if you weren't such a weak, spineless creature."

My reflection, I suppose, regarded me with orange eyes, her swarthy skin strangely pasty, her mouth cured into an expression of mild distaste. Her dark robes hung loosely around her, the hem swirling gently with the motion of the water in which she stood.

"I'm not weak," I answered, knowing how childish the retort sounded.

The Reflection chuckled darkly and began to prowl around me, taking me in at every angle. "You don't think so?" her voice was pitched lower than mine, her pacing of speech slower with something like confidence. "Why do you think everyone keeps trying to tell you what to do, how to do it and when to do it? You say 'I want to do this' and they tell you 'no.' What do you do? Apologize for being wrong and back down. What do you call that if not weak and spineless?"

"Respectful," I answered sourly, not unaware that she raised a decent point. "What are you, really?"

"You know very well what I am," she repeated. "I am your greatest potential. I'm the one who rules while others follow. I'm the one who does what I please, when I please, and how I please—and mostly at my own discretion. You're lost, Jaesa. I'm here to get you unlost. Don't worry. You'll find my path much more fulfilling than the one you're on now."

I backed away. "You're Sith, aren't you?"

She snorted at this, giving me a lookthat indicated she found me _highly_ subpar."Not exactly. I'm what you could be if you had the strength to own your own life. They keep warning you about me but you're much closer to being me than you think."

"No," I answered sharply. "I'm not like you and never will be. I'm a-a Jedi."

"You look at yourself and feel fear. That usually says something about what you're looking at. So, Jaesa. What does recoiling from me out of fear—recoiling from your own potential—say to you?" the Reflection stopped circling me.

"It means I know evil when I see it. And I'm not evil," I answered boldly.

She chuckled at this, a sound like fingernails dragged oh-so-gently and oh-so-deliberately up the skin along my backbone. "No one knows you as I know you. The only reason you fear me is because you've been taught to; because people want to tell you what your own potential is. That's what the Jedi do. They hamstring their pupils until they can only lean on the crutch the Order provides. The sad part is that so many of these pupils are _grateful_ for this."

She gave me a look, daring me to answer with the words that jumped to my tongue, to protest that not all Jedi leaned on the Order. But to admit that meant to admit a trend towards the Dark Side, even if only by inches. There was kind of a pattern between 'good' Jedi and 'poor' Jedi that I wasn't sure I wanted to consider.

"Another sign that you know something better than you wish. But avoidance is for fools and cowards."

"I'm _not_ a coward!" I snarled back.

"No, but you are _angry_. Humor me. You've a weapon to hand. Fight me. Show me, in the only way—according to your Jedi philosophies—someone like me could _possibly_ understand, how strong you are. Prove your conviction and the strength of your position. It shouldn't be hard if the Light Side is soooo powerful." Her smile was hungry, wolfish; her nostrils flared at the opportunity for a fight and I knew that if I didn't meet her head-on she would come at me anyway, ready or not.

I was barely able to counter her first blow, having to _pull_ my lightsaber from among my things.

Although she moved like the water slowed her, I found myself less sure-footed. It was all I could do to hold her off and back up until I was only knee-deep. Even with the drag on my legs lessened, my combat skills were meager, and I never got really good with using the Force in combat—

"Your self-doubt has killed you," the Reflection announced. Suddenly, she'd ripped my lightsaber out of my hand, pulling it through the Force. She was in my face a split second later and I screamed as I suddenly found myself pushed back into the water. I clamped my jaws shut, trying to keep from screaming the rest of my breath away as her hand on my throat held me under.

"This is drowning," the Reflection said, her voice unhampered by the water. "Does it feel familiar? It should. You're already drowning in the wreck that is your life."

My hands scrabbled at hers, trying to push her off my throat so I could sit up. My lungs burned and the need to take an involuntary breath began to mount.

"You try to deny that I'm a part of you, but it seems I'm a bigger part of you than you realize if I can do _this_ to you and all you can do is thrash."

I shook my head and, suddenly, took a big breath of water.

A second later, the pressure holding me was gone, the Reflection was gone, and I was alone, sitting in the shallows coughing hard.

"Do you see how weak you are? If your way was viable, you would have been able to defeat me." The Reflection's voice came from nowhere I could see…

…until I stood up. For a moment I could see my own reflection in the water, except it wasn't me. It was her.

"If you couldn't stand up to me, you won't stand up to a Dark Side emissary. Have no doubt—one will come. In the hands of the Jedi, you're too dangerous for them to ignore. With Nomen Karr waving you around like a magic wand they won't be ignorant of you for very long."

"You talk like you know this emissary," I panted, feeling chilled to the very bone in a way that had nothing to do with the water.

But my reflection had evened out as the words it spoke died, until I was alone, looking down at myself only as I was.

I swallowed hard and struggled further into the shallows, single-mindedly removing the rest of the Sand Demon crud and trying not to cry. I'd tried so hard to do everything _right_ and I still got my head handed back to me! This was supposed to be a trip of enlightenment, of self-discovery.

And I get my butt kicked… by _myself_.

Tears began to form in my eyes as I regarded the sandy bottom of the shallows. How am I supposed to tell Master Yonlach I succeeded when I so obviously didn't? The tears began to slip down my face, and I covered my mouth as though it might somehow stop the impending meltdown.

I fisted my hands in the sand and shouted my disappointment, flinging the mud out into the middle of the oasis before hauling myself to my feet and stomping over to where my clothes and a towel lay waiting for me.

I was never going to be good enough on Alderaan.

It looks like I may never be good enough as a Jedi, either.

-Hella-

To say I felt bad tempered by the time Quinn, Sharack, and I arrived at the end of our journey would be inaccurate. I was gritting my teeth so as not to lash out irrationally at the both of them if provoked and I don't think Quinn was in any sweeter temper. So we two stomped and swept our way across the desert with only the hope of everything being over soon to sustain us, with Sharack leading us at a distance, wisely removing herself from the line of fire.

But arrive we did, in good time.

"Please remain and watch the entrance, Sharack, that we might remain uninterrupted. I shall call you when all is concluded."

Sharack nodded, taking me in in one glance and assuming I wouldn't take anything but obedience well.

She was right. I wouldn't.

The air felt heavy with water, except that it wasn't. The Force hung so thick and powerful that I was amazed we could breathe at all. It crawled across my skin, emanating from the oasis at the far end of the cavern. The cavern should have been pitch-black but it wasn't: veins of crystal in the walls and most notably in the far wall glowed softly, like the crystal in the map chamber with the Sand People. The faint light was enough to allow me to see what I was doing and to cast watery patterns on the ceiling.

Somewhere, water dripped, and the hardy reeds growing at the edge of the water spoke further of the presence of the Force.

"My lord… there's something strange here," Quinn said nervously. "I suggest caution."

"It's the Force, Quinn," I answered softly, surprised that my voice didn't carry and reverberate, as if the Force's currents and eddies dampened the sound as well as the air, suggesting the ritual provided its subjects a certain amount of privacy. "It hangs thick, here, and presses upon anyone who enters."

That it seemed strongest about the water was indicative and aligned with my expectations: time to wash off all the muck and sand that had been crusting me over until I felt like something of a Sand Demon myself. "Now, Quinn, this is the way of it. I'm afraid you will need to wait for your turn and wash. I don't know what form this ritual will take and it would be unwise for us to be tripping over one another."

Quinn looked around, unnerved, then nodded without a word.

I glanced back at the water, dancing in the darkness. Then, I squeezed my eyes shut. "I will also require your assistance, briefly." The words came out almost as a hiss. The loathing of admitting it was only matched by the loathing of the necessity… and the dread of what would follow.

No Sith likes to admit to weakness and I am no exception—tell someone where they can hurt you and then they know for future reference. And I bear it in mind that Quinn is still one of Baras' creatures… to an extent. Less though than Sharack.

However, if everything I guessed was true, then there was no alternative. Full immersion was necessary.

"My assistance?" Quinn asked, startled. Well he might be.

"Yes." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering how to ask without explaining the details.

Ever since a child, I've had this terrible… fear, phobia… of having my head submerged. I don't swim. I'm very careful when I bother to soak rather than rely on a nice, trusty shower, I would refuse a kolto tank even on the point of death. It's a foolish fear, but somehow terribly profound and it runs very deep. I can neither account for its existence nor can I do anything about it.

I've tried.

"I'm going to walk out into the shallows. When I stop, I will need you to… to assist in immersing me. Then you must withdraw as quickly as you can and _wait_. Do not interfere, whatever might follow. I am… trusting you."

His surprise at this mellowed his perplexity. "Of course, my lord."

"Come." He let me take him by the wrist as I waded, fully dressed, fully-armored, fully armed, into the waters. When I was about thigh-deep I knelt, which brought the water up to my neck. I shivered as I looked into the water.

"Are you quite certain, my lord?" Quinn asked, picking up on my distress. No doubt, with his closeness to true Sensitivity and the Force as thick as it was, he could perceive far more than he usually would.

"Yes."

His hands appeared, one on my neck, one on my shoulder.

"Do it quickly." My breath rattled the water before me as I started to shake. I squeezed my eyes closed.

"Take a deep breath," Quinn prompted soothingly, which I did.

He pushed me under, hands a firm pressure but not forceful. He held me for a few seconds, then the pressure vanished.

I waited until I couldn't stand it anymore—seconds, really, barely enough time for Quinn to stagger out of reach—and broke out of the water with a screech that would have brought Sharack running if Quinn hadn't ordered her sharply back to her post. Water dripped off my face, the sand and Demon blood flaking and dissolving away.

I shuddered where I knelt, then pushed myself to standing, blowing water from my mouth before giving my head a sharp shake. A gleam at the far end of the cavern caught my eye, a gleam that moved under the water towards me, closer and closer until a reflection of myself emerged from the waves.

The Force wreathed her in lazy billows, her eyes a mundane brown, her skin pale but not as mine was. White and blue robes hung off a slighter, less muscular figure as she regarded me thoughtfully. "You have lost your way," she observed simply. "Thus, I have come to correct your path."

Enlightenment. This shall be an interesting experience, no matter how it goes. "Have you indeed?"

"I am the embodiment of your greatest potential," she declared, holding out her arms as if to allow me a better look at her. "I am what you could be if you overcame your fear and walked in the Light."

I prowled around her, careful of my footing. She looked like a Force ghost—not that I've ever actually seen any, but I know of them by account. The Force felt strange as I moved, as if its presence in the cavern weakened in order to bring her into expression. "Don't pretend you don't know me. Danger only makes things more fun," I purred.

"I know you and I know when you are deflecting—however much truth you ascribe to that deflection. I know why you prefer your Force-deaf officer, there, to anyone your equal. He might scald you, but he would gain no power over you," she observed.

"If you are suggesting trust would be easier were I to follow your example, you may stop right there and save your breath. I have seen Jedi who walk in the Light and they have shown me nothing less than fools and bloated egos. The Light simply goes to illuminate their weaknesses and failings. Look, then, at what people such as myself do with that knowledge."

"Perhaps to one who only knows Darkness it would seem so. But what you criticize are but the failings of a philosophy," the Reflection answered serenely.

"And a Force user without an Order to back her quickly finds herself being attacked from two sides. No, thank you. Now, Apparition… what are you _really_ after?"

"As I have said, I seek to correct your course. Consider this: Darth Baras is deathly afraid of this Padawan. Why? He is a great Dark Side master, is he not? She is but a mere child, a nascent champion of the Light."

"Stop confusing the issue," I snapped, "the issue isn't Light versus Darkness, it is the question of this girl threatening Baras' interests and my task to ensure she ceases to do so."

" _You_ confuse the issue."

"I'm not some unschooled, undisciplined apprentice, Apparition. I embraced what I was long ago. The battles I face are those of my choosing because I left myself open to them. I am too entrenched within myself for these… manipulations… to work," I returned.

"Perhaps you are. Then let me present you this: if you refuse the Light you must strike me down. Do you have it within you to destroy a part of yourself?" the Reflection asked serenely.

Trial by combat, then. "I believe I do. But let's test it for certainty, shall we?"

"Come, then." She unclipped her lightsabers from her belt and held them loosely in her hands. "Take me on, and we shall see."

It was unlike any fight I'd ever had, nothing like what I imagined fighting myself would be like. She moved so smoothly, flowed about effortlessly. Her style was not like my own, which left me at a bit of a disadvantage.

Light, Dark, or in-between, I had to admit she was good.

Unfortunately—for her—she was also a construct of the Force, a manifestation of its accumulated presence here. That meant she was like a weight being dragged under the surface of water. All I had to do was, essentially, look for the telltale signs of where she _would be_ rather than attack where she _actually was_.

In this way, I brought my lightsaber across her neck.

She dropped one weapon—which vanished as it touched the water's surface—and reached up, catching the blade. Holding it, she proved a solid presence when I pushed against her but the weapon did her no harm. "You have proven your way is strong and viable," she said announced, then let go of the lightsaber and came to stand at my shoulder. "With this victory, our essence is purified. In the clarity of this communion, a vision is granted. Behold." She pointed into the waters ahead of us.

In the darkness appeared a watery depiction of where we were, complete with Sharack waiting in the entryway. The image began to move, slowly then faster, the vision burning itself into my mind, a clear path from where we stood to a small shack deep in the desert.

"Do you see it? Beyond the rock formation called the Forbidden Pass, the Master you seek makes his home. He might have aided the expression of her powers but he could not aid her when she attempted what you have achieved. He knows this and will fight all the harder because of it. He knows you can reach her. And he knows you can take her away."

"That is useful to know. Is there anything else?"

"The vision fades," the Reflection answered. "Do what you must. Your sojourn here nears its end."

I blinked, then found myself looking at my own reflection in the water. The Force seemed to unknot with the dissipation of the apparition.

I was nothing like 'clean' and would need a proper scrub later, but I had what I needed for the moment. Meditating on it all while Quinn underwent his own conclusion didn't seem like a poor way to spend the time.

I waded out of the water to find Quinn standing nearby, looking relieved that things seemed to have returned to normal. "Thank you for your patience, Quinn. It's all yours. Once we've finished, washed, and rested, we will finish the journey. We don't have long to wait."

"Thank goodness," he breathed devoutly, though he took in the fact that I hadn't actually scrubbed up.

When he eyed the waters, he did so askance, as if he didn't trust them. Then, with a twitch of his shoulder and a shake of his head—as though he couldn't quite believe he was doing this—he waded back into the water.

I moved away to afford him some privacy, kneeling on the sand and drawing my mind into a concentrated amalgamation of thought, sinking deeply into it when the Force's currents again grew thinner as Quinn met his own Reflection.


	6. Chapter 6

-Quinn-

The experience, so far, had been unnerving. I hadn't known—I doubted _anyone_ knew—Her Lordship had difficulties with total immersion. It was less exploitable than, say, claustrophobia or something of that nature, but for Sith even small phobias can be dangerous.

So, big or small, easy to exploit or difficult, it was a detail I could appreciate not going past these walls.

And let us hope the necessity of a kolto tank never becomes an issue. I don't like to think of the dosages of sedatives would be needed to keep her from smashing her way out in a panic. The idea, as much as I didn't like to think about it, went on my shortlist for 'in case it becomes an issue, have a plan of action.'

Her Lordship's actual words as she stood in the waters were inaudible, though the rise and fall of her voice certainly reached me. After what seemed a calm but engaging conversation, her lightsabers ignited and she thrashed about in the water for several minutes before… it was over, I suppose.

This was followed by another inaudible, one-sided conversation.

Rather than finish scrubbing off—which I would have recommended—she waded out of the water, looking both thoughtful and preoccupied. Only once she was out of the water did she give me her attention. "Thank you for your patience, Quinn. It's all yours. Once we've finished, washed, and rested, we will finish the journey. We don't have long to wait."

There was enough finality in her words that I knew suggesting she wash up now as opposed to later would be pointless. I couldn't honestly say I was ungrateful about it. "Thank goodness." The words just sort of jumped out, breaking free of my dedicated attempts not to brood over the horrific climate and, by paying it attention, make it harder to ignore.

So far on this journey, it's been a toss-up between which world I'd prefer being on: Nar Shaddaa or this overheated sandbox.

And I couldn't say I was looking forward to whatever Force-strangeness was here. The oddest sensation seemed to gather within this cavern, something palpable but altogether intangible, almost like a conversation in another room of which one cannot hear more than peaks and lulls in tone.

Only it wasn't really _sound_.

I am not Force Sensitive, so I shouldn't really be affected by all this… strangeness.

I refuse to call it 'Sith sorcery.'

With a sigh, I waded down to the water, staying in the shallows as Her Lordship had done, washing briskly to get the gunk off. I didn't think I could stand going through whatever-it-might-be covered in this… filth. Mud or sand, or any _natural_ muck I could deal with; Sand Demon blood, though? That's a little extreme and I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks so.

If full immersion was required, I had control over when—or if—this questionable experience would start. If not… I was in for a surprise when it did. I wasn't entirely certain I wanted to go through with this ritual. It seems to me such things should be reserved for those whom it was intended…

…although I'm sure Her Lordship would argue that if it is one of those things that affects everyone who follows the steps required then anyone who follows the steps is the intended audience.

To my surprise, the gunk all came off fairly easily, almost melting and diffusing rather than required scraping and encouragement as though it wanted to be away from me as much as I wanted to be away from it. The shirt was a loss, but I expected as much.

As I contemplated the sandy bottom of the oasis after scrubbing my face—and hopefully her lipstick mark off. I had to wonder if she wasn't serious about ensuring no one doubted where I belonged when she put it there; I also had to wonder how much of the sand present hadn't been brought from the Sand Demon's cave via roundabout route to here.

Finally, I took a deep breath and sunk beneath the waterline, borne down by increasing curiosity.

When I surfaced, nothing had changed except that I was completely wet instead of mostly wet.

It was with a sense of disappointment that I brushed the moisture from my face and swept my hair out of my eyes. It was when I turned around that I jumped in surprise—actually _jumped_. And stumbled as I stepped back.

Standing between me and the shoreline was a kind of duplicate… only dressed in the long robes of a Sith with amber eyes and an expression of cool amusement. "Surprise," he smirked.

…I honestly didn't know what to say.

"That's because you're the most ridiculous _idiot_ in the history of idiots and it's good to be able to tell you so," my double responded as though I'd voiced the comment out loud. "So, here you are and here I am. It's good you succumbed to—you won't need that, Malavai." He broke off, eyes tracking the slow slide of my hand towards my pistol.

Suddenly, Her Lordship's jumping around with her lightsaber made sense.

"It's different for us. We aren't Sith, or Jedi, and but for quirk of fate you will never be either. Thus, there's no need for fighting and it would be counterproductive."

"So what now? We simply converse?" I asked dubiously.

"You sound so surprised. I'm certainly not here to dance with you. Since this is an exercise leading to enlightenment, enlighten _me_ : why have you done _nothing_ about that fantastic creature just there?" he turned to regard Her Lordship appreciatively, despite the fact she sat with her back to us, apparently meditating.

"I am _not_ having this conversation with anyone—including you." Then, on balance and not without some suspicion, " _Especially_ with you."

"It's a far more pleasing topic than the one I'm _really_ here about," my double noted grimly, eyebrows arching. "Take your pleasures where you can."

Is that… really how I look when I do that?

"I refuse to have a teenager's conversation with a double of myself. What you're suggesting is inappropriate—"

"Well, that's the first place you're going wrong. The only 'appropriate' match for someone like her would be some corroding fleshbag with a high concentration of metal parts sitting on the Dark Council and you well know it. If she chooses to seek elsewhere for a lover, why not us?"

I refused to answer the question; I refused to _ponder_ the question.

When it became obvious I wasn't going to say a word on the subject, my double gave me a look of mild distaste. "Very well. Suit yourself." My double proceeded to prowl around me, taking me in from every angle before stopping his circuit behind my shoulder. "Let's talk about Darth Baras instead," he breathed.

I turned sharply to face him, glaring, aware that he had _breath_ to tickle my ear… which was unnerving in the extreme.

"I told you the topic I'm here for was unpleasant. We can still go back to the pleasant subject, if you like… for a time," my double offered almost cheerfully.

"Darth Baras need not be concerned about me—"

"No, Malavai. _You_ need to be concerned about _him_ ," my double broke, in seriously, grim certainty and hatred marking his every pale feature. "How long do you think it will be before he tries to destroy our lady Sith? Who do you think he'll use to do it? Who is better positioned to do it? Who is clever enough, and cunning enough, and far enough into her good graces to get close enough to do it?" Again, he arched his eyebrows inviting me to fill in the blanks.

The questions were beyond insidious.

"Her Lordship is a faithful servant—"

"So was Rylon. So was Dellocon."

" _They_ were compromised."

" _They_ were murdered for assurance. You know very well the patterns Sith games take and you, my fine fellow, are in them up to your _neck_." My double lifted his right hand, waving his fingers vaguely. Something like an invisible fist closed over my throat, a snug grip that made a point without causing damage. "So, what will you do?" he continued. "Baras saved your career, that's true, but Her Lordship aids the Empire itself at every turn that presents itself—always with posturing and whatnot, but that's a Sith for you. Baras traded your cage for chains… but you know _she_ needs no such tricks." My double smiled. "You already belong to her in a way you never belonged to Darth Baras—apart from the obvious ways. He gained your service out of your own sense of obligation—something he surely knew he could twist to his benefit. She gains your service out of a true dedication and is probably well aware that Baras wanted you close to her. What does all that tell you?"

"That you have excellent insight," I admitted grudgingly as the pressure on my throat relaxed.

"At least you recognize it. Now, what are you going to do? It is best to plan ahead with these things."

"Planning too far ahead one way or the other means the plan ends up obsolete before the issue to which it pertains _becomes_ an issue," I reminded him. " _Especially_ if Her Lordship feels impish."

"True. But I have something in mind that will benefit from time to grow, something you can do now, in advance. And it's a lovely plan in that you can do whatever you want with it—side with whom you will as you see fit."

I remained silent, wondering if I really wanted to hear this.

"It doesn't hurt to listen, Malavai. And whatever else I am, I am dedicated to your interests." At my brisk nod, he continued, pacing as he spoke. "You're a clever man and Her Lordship is a warrior unlike most. She needs challenges to keep herself sharp. Create a program for her practice droids, something that will 'learn' the longer she works with it. You know she'll appreciate the gesture. Let her train the dagger to be slipped between her ribs. Or let her train so she may survive whatever battles come."

I weighed this plan wondering at myself for not having told this… thing… to leave me be.

"Because my plan leaves you a _choice_ ," my double responded. Suddenly, as if a sound caught his attention. "I must go. The effects of the ritual are wearing off. Do this thing, Malavai, and decide later. Just be prepared."

"You want to keep her alive, don't you?" Suddenly, the double was gone, little more than a distorted image in the water.

"Don't you?"

The conversation left me feeling cold as I turned and waded out of the shallows. I took a few more moments to rinse down again, then waded out of the waters. "My lord, I believe my part in this has concluded." To my relief, my voice sounded steady, as though I wasn't at all perturbed.

"Thank the Force!" she sighed, sounding much brighter and less preoccupied than she had upon exiting the waters. As she passed me, going down for her wash, she paused. "Did you find it enlightening?"

"Quite, my lord. I appreciate the opportunity." I didn't know what else to say. It had certainly given me many things to ponder.

And it had unnerved me more than a little.

She patted my shoulder, looking pleased, then waded in, leaving me with my own tangled and uncomfortable thoughts.


End file.
